For All The Wrong Reasons
by Shaitanah
Summary: Three years after the end of the war Ginny meets her ‘teenage crush’ – none other than Tom Riddle. Is he a ghost, a memory, a living being? Will he let her live or does he want revenge? Please R&R!


**Title**: "For All The Wrong Reasons"

**Author**: Shaitanah

**Rating**: PG-13

**Timeline**: post-war (Voldemort defeated)

**Summary**: Three years after the end of the war Ginny meets her 'teenage crush' – none other than Tom Riddle. Is he a ghost, a memory, a living being? Will he let her live or does he want revenge? Please R&R!

**Disclaimer**: J.K. Rowling owes everything. Including Tom, unfortunately! The song _Fight For All The Wrong Reasons_ belongs to _Nickelback_.

**A/N**: I'm not really proud of this fic since I'm not the biggest fan of this pairing. But I just had this idea and I couldn't drop it so I've written this. Tell me what you think, okay? Please! ;)

* * *

**FOR ALL THE WRONG REASONS**

_Well I wanted you  
I wanted no one else  
I thought it through  
I got you to myself  
You got off  
Every time you got on to me  
I got caught up  
In favorable slavery

* * *

_

It's been quite a while since she had last thought about it. The war was over. Not just for the world, but for her as well for she had finally given up her mourning for brothers lost, friends cruelly murdered, childhood spoilt. She learnt to cope with it. If only he quit reminding her!..

The Boy Who Lived, Ginny thought, tearing through the crowd towards a small Parisian café, lived in vain. He never wanted to live a life like that. He defeated the Dark Lord, but it had broken him. He barely spoke these days, sitting by the window, looking out in the street as if searching for something. Something that would cure his disease. Ginny sensed his agony. He wanted himself gone, erased from the world's memory, gone forever and for good. No more Harry Potter, The Boy Who Won The War.

He was 20 now. He changed very little. His hair grew a bit longer and messier, his vivid green eyes dimmed, his scar paled as Voldemort dissolved into the nothing. But in the end, it was the same vulnerable boy she had seen on Platform 9 ¾ all those years ago. He was not different, just older and more solemn.

Ginny blossomed even more. The war didn't kill her newborn beauty. On a contrary, she became a golden-haired angel of death for the Death Eaters. Her wand knew no mercy.

Now that the madness was over, she devoted herself to keeping Harry sane and helping about St. Mungo's. A social worker, that's what Muggles called it. Or a nurse. Or just someone who'd hear you out. The world lacked kindness. Ginny tried to correct the situation.

Three years after the dreadful war Harry took her hand in his and said in a quite, but persistent voice:

"I suggest you go on vacation. You've been working hard since… well, since _that_. You need rest". She wanted to object, but he put a finger over her lips and whispered softly: "You'd better not break, love, cos I'm on a rack. At least one of us should be sane to keep the other one alive".

So Ginny packed her stuff and went to Paris. Unaccustomed to being completely alone, nevertheless, she enjoyed the feeling of freedom. She used to travel only in the company of her extremely huge, loud, merry family before, but this was totally the opposite. Noone told her what to do, where to go and where not to go. Ginny explored the entire city the way she wanted to, from small coffee-houses to the big, beautiful Eiffel Tower. She found it stress-relieving to sit in cafes in the evening and meditate quietly on her life. Some things, she wanted to change, some things, not.

'Paris is like a maze of fantasy, heartbroken love, sweetness, peace and grief packed into a box, wrapped up in golden paper and tied with a pink ribbon', she wrote Harry. 'I just wish you were by my side. After all, it's a place for romance!'

She wrote a dozen letters. But she owled only two or three. She didn't want to bother Harry. 'Perhaps, he's fed up with my concern'.

* * *

_Was it wrong? Was it wrong?

* * *

_

Ginny left the café long past midnight. The sky above was deep blue, strewn with light diamond crumbs. Breathing in the transparent, warm air of the summer night, Ginny walked slowly by the river, counting stars and accidentally eavesdropping on the passers-by' conversations. They spoke of nothing. People always speak of nothing, just walking by.

-I forgot to feed my cat, damn it! If only you didn't call at that moment…

-I should have told her! Now she'll be off to LA without knowing I love her!

-I'm sick, and tired, and chemically imbalanced, and I sound like my old teacher right now.

-You need to buy a drink…

-The only way is down from here…

Just life. It's just life, Ginny told herself. Life that is no more interesting than mine, no less.

A car beeped beside her. Ginny bent down and peered into its dark gap. She saw a young man at the steering wheel, his face slightly obscured by the shade. A light from the torch fell onto him. His face was pallid, very noble and looked a bit like a neat sculpture. High forehead was powdered with jet-black hair. His beauty was breathtaking; in the striking light of street-torches it made a deadly impression. Shadows glided upon his skin. Ginny spotted a tiny stain of clotted blood on his temple. 'Must be a mosquito bite'.

"You need a lift, young lady", he said. It wasn't a question, but a statement. He spoke perfect English. Ginny smiled, relieved: always a pleasure to meet a compatriot in a foreign country.

"No, I'm fine, actually. But thank you, anyway".

She kept on walking. The man signaled again, more intensely this time.

"I won't harm you, Miss. You look so alone. You need company. I know how hard it can get to be completely on your own".

* * *

_I guess it wasn't really right_

_I guess it wasn't meant to be_

_It didn't matter what they said_

'_Cause we were good in bed_

_I guess I stuck around so I could watch us fight_

_for all the wrong reasons

* * *

_

-I should probably go now. Thank you for this wonderful evening!

-Tomorrow at 9 a.m. sharp! Don't be late. You can't afford to miss the colloquy.

-They had guests yesterday. The music was so loud I couldn't sleep! I had to ring them up to tell them to shut the fuck up!

Ginny shrugged. The stream of people flowing back and forth by the river-bank reduced. The night went on, enveloping the city in its velvet blue veil. The girl hopped in the car and smiled shyly as the driver increased the speed.

"So how do you like Paris?"

"It's hard to say. Every city's a riddle. But Paris… Oh, I don't know. It's very peculiar. I wonder how it can be so romantic, a city for two, but a city of loneliness, a place for one at the same time".

The driver smiled thoughtfully. "Quite a riddle, Ginny. You're right about that".

The girl tensed. No way. _It can't be…_

"How do you know my name?" she demanded, hoping her voice didn't tremble. "I can't recall telling you".

"You know my name as well. If you try, you might fish it out of your memory. It can't be buried deep".

Those strikingly handsome features. Ginny regarded him closer, willing to bring his image, buried once and for all in her first Hogwarts year, to life. Doubtless, it was _him_. His emerald eyes, tinted with blood-red, his wavy hair, his gentle, dangerous smile.

Transfixed, Ginny reached for her wand. Usually she tended to wear it in a hip holster. Of course, it was empty.

Tom grinned. "Looking for something?"

"Give me my wand", she spoke in a weary voice. A sudden realization pierced her: she was so tired she had no power to be afraid, or angry, or even mildly surprised. She didn't even need her wand. Had she possessed it right then, she probably would let Tom murder her, regardless. She didn't care – about Tom, about Harry, or herself.

* * *

_No, it didn't matter what I tried_

_It's just a little hard to leave_

_When you're going down on me_

_I guess I stuck around so I could watch us fight_

_for all the wrong reasons

* * *

_

"How come you're alive?"

Tom shrugged as if it wasn't what he actually wanted to talk about. "How should I know, Ginny dear? Your precious Potter must have extracted me from the final Horcrux. Or even from Lord Voldemort himself. Our past and future crossed, and I came off that crossroad alive and well. I'm your dream… or you might be projecting me at the moment. Who cares? I gave you several possible explanations, you pick one. The point is: I'm alive and I'm after you".

Ginny dropped her head against the window and yawned. She felt bored and sleepy, anything but scared. Tom's gentle finger traced a line across her cheek.

"Don't touch me, you sick bastard!" Ginny snapped. "Why can't you just leave us alone?"

"Me?" Tom specified. "Or Voldemort?"

_Die_. It seemed like a nice idea. Ginny turned pale. The car went faster, its move more abrupt, Tom barely held the steering wheel as if… _as if_… The car bumped along, each time more fiercely. Its side crashed into a fence and kept going, scattering sparks about. Ginny's breath came out shaky and visible. Her hands grew colder. A sticky film of sweat covered her palms.

"Are you going to kill me… us?" she whispered hoarsely.

Tom smiled, but gave no reply.

When the car flew up and toppled over several times, Ginny screamed and shut her eyes. Being so close to death was almost a relief. But who knew whether there was a place in the afterlife for guys like Tom Riddle? If she died, she might get bound to him for all eternity. Especially if she died right by his side.

When Ginny opened her eyes, the car was flitting among the clouds, leaving Paris sprinkled with shimmering far below.

"I hate you, Tom Riddle", she muttered, but there was no hate in her voice.

"I love you, Ginny Weasley", he replied, and there was the closest thing to affection he could manage.

* * *

_Well you know my friends_

_Well they know your enemies_

_I'd pretend_

_Not to hear what they said to me_

'_Cause I got off_

_Every time you got on to me_

_Was it wrong_

_To go along with insanity?

* * *

_

The flying car wasn't all that bad. After all, Ginny grew up watching her father and her insane brothers experiment with their blue _Ford Anglia_.

She glanced quickly at Tom. His face was serene. No doubt, he enjoyed that very much.

She felt a sudden urge to wipe that smirk off his face. She crept up to him and planted a small kiss in the corner of his mouth. Insanity… He looked younger than her. He seemed… no, not the copy of Harry, but something very close to him.

"You miss your hero, little girl", Tom said, sounding very mature. How could she mistake him for a teenager?

"He comes to me at night, seeking a way to end it all", Ginny confessed. Her eyes filled with tears. Sobbing, she went on: "He looks forward to dying. He wants to–".

"To leave you alone". The way he spoke explained something to her. He missed someone as well. Dumbledore once said that there is nothing worse than losing yourself. Riddle was the one who had it all.

She nodded slowly. Then she mounted him and kissed his lips, his eyes, his neck. He turned his head, giving in to that soft sensation as the tips of her hair brushed his skin.

* * *

_Was it wrong? Was it wrong?

* * *

_

He lowered his hands from the steering wheel and caressed her hips. The car sailed swiftly ahead, diving in and out of the clouds. Ginny remembered her childish admiration of him as he spoke to her, that mesmerizing voice from the tattered book. She could have listened to him for ages. He _knew_ her though they had never met, he understood her just like he had understood her relationship with Harry now.

She wasn't a little girl anymore. Eight years or more had passed since that dangerous infatuation with a ghost that nearly cost her life in the Chamber of Secrets. Ginny gave in to her desire, gave herself over to Tom.

Later, the moonlight washed over her milky-white skin covered in sweat, and her head rested upon Tom's shoulder. The car continued its eternal moving. It seemed that it would never stop.

* * *

_I guess it wasn't really right_

_I guess it wasn't meant to be_

_It didn't matter what they said_

'_Cause we were good in bed_

_I guess I stuck around so I could watch us fight_

_for all the wrong reasons

* * *

_

Ginny opened her eyes. She was in bed in her hotel room. Soft breeze was seeping inside through the slit in the window. It was just a dream. A dream…

She sat upright and inhaled deeply. The breeze carried the essence of honey. It was almost dawn. Ginny's gaze swept past the antic telephone apparatus, dark-cherry curtains that looked almost black in the twilight. She sighed. Half of her desired yet another touch, another eternal second alone with Tom. No, not Tom – but her memory of those days long gone.

'What did he want?' she asked herself. 'Was he if only a bit real? Was he there for me?'

Somehow she felt free now that she had gone through her teenage crush again. It was her past, and past could not be undone.

* * *

_No, it didn't matter what I tried_

_It's just a little hard to leave_

_When you're going down on me_

_I guess I stuck around so I could watch us fight_

_for all the wrong reasons

* * *

_

Ginny dialed the phone-number. She still felt awkward whenever it came to those funny Muggle devices but she shared her Father's passion and Harry taught her to use them. They spoke on the phone frequently if only for fun.

He picked up almost instantly as if he'd been waiting for her to call. Ginny smiled, forgetting he couldn't see it.

"I'm coming back", she said. "Don't argue, you need me".

'And I need you'.

Ginny got dressed and walked out into the cold light of morning. The city was asleep. Ginny didn't hear any more thoughts and remarks of passers-by for there were none around her. She was blissfully alone. She had recovered from her wounds. It took 3 years and one ghost to do it.

She could, she really could start it all over – now, with Harry, free.

_August – October, 2006 _


End file.
